


A Pirate's Life For Me

by fiveainley_ohmy



Series: The Weird and Sexual Adventures of Doctor Who [13]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alice in Wonderland, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Beauty and the Beast, Human AU, Light BDSM, M/M, Robin Hood - Freeform, Sailor!Five, The Princess Bride - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The carefree sailor John Smith is taken prisoner by the most feared pirate in all the seven seas. Although, as it turns out, he's just a big old softie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enchaîné

**Author's Note:**

> Filled anon prompt (mine) at http://best-enemies.livejournal.com/13938.html?thread=7255666#t7255666: Ainley!Master is a fearsome pirate. Five just wants to sail and explore the oceans. One day, the Master captures the carefree sailor and holds him captive on his ship. Hijinks on the high seas, possible hot kinky pirate sex (completely consensual, of course).

The good ship _TARDIS_ rolled on the glittering waves of the sea, and the good Doctor, Captain John Smith, stood with his foot perched on the bow of his beloved vessel, gripping one of the sails' lines, taking in the bright sunshine and the fresh salt air. A great ship, a great day-this truly was the life for him.

“ _What do you do with a drunken sailor_ …” John sang softly under his breath as he adjusted the sails. “Well firstly, hope he doesn’t die of a liver failure. Hey, that rhymed!”

John had been from every port from Boston to Bombay to Bangkok. He truly loved his life of freedom. Just him and his small blue ship, on the high seas.

***

One night, John was woken from sleep. He heard a _thunk_ , and then heavy footsteps on the deck above.

Someone was on board his ship.

John got out of bed and pulled on his shoes. Then he crept upstairs to the outside. He looked around, but saw no one.

Suddenly, there was a blade at his throat, a gloved hand on his waist. John stifled the urge to cry out.

“Traveling alone, my pretty sailor?” a pair of lips growled in his ear.

John shuddered. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.

The voice chuckled darkly. “Where do you keep the valuables on this ship?”

_Pirates!_ John thought to himself fearfully. “I-I have no valuables,” said the sailor. “Only the essentials-clothes, food, fresh water. And books.”

The blade pressed into the soft skin of his throat. “If I find you are lying-”

“No, no! Please. I’m not a rich man. I have nothing of value, I swear.”

“If you are not a rich man,” sneered the voice, “then what do you do?”

“I…travel,” John struggled to answer.

“Travel? And that’s all?” There was a derisive scoff in the voice’s tone.

“Yes, travel,” said John, a little irritated. “I don’t wish for wealth or power. Only to explore.”

There was silence from the intruder, then some deep laughter. “Come along then, my pretty sailor.” The sword was removed from his neck and prodded into the small of his back.

“Where are we going?” John said as the sword pushed him toward the side of his ship, where a wide plank was connecting it to an even bigger vessel.

“To my ship. It’s been awhile since I had company, and besides, you might make a good swab boy.”

John gulped as he took the first step up onto that teetering plank. The thin wood was wavering in the night breeze. John shakily stepped up.

“That’s it…good boy.”

John, determined not to look down, instead, looked across at the ship he was boarding. He gasped. The ship was almost twice the size of his, and black as the night sky. It was easily recognizable: the vessel of the pirate so fearsome, he was a crew all to himself. “The S.S. _Paradox Machine_! You’re the Master!”

Master James Stoker chuckled wickedly behind him. “Right you are. I see my reputation proceeds me. And what do they call you?”

“Smith,” swallowed John. “Doctor John Smith.”

“A doctor? How very charming. And useful. Never know when one will need one of those.”

Suddenly, an especially hard gust of wind blew, rattling the shaky plank. John cried out in fear and twirled around, grabbing on to the first thing he could grab-Master Stoker.

As Stoker caught him, they locked eyes, and John caught sight of his captor for the first time. He was quite handsome in the moonlight. Devilish grey-blue eyes peeked out from his wide brimmed black hat, and a dark moustache and beard curled around a sturdy jaw and underneath a strong nose. John’s hands, clinging to the pirate’s shoulders for support, touched firm, round muscles underneath his black broad-coat. John exhaled, his heart racing all of a sudden.

“Sorry,” he whispered faintly. “Fear of heights.”

Stoker nodded imperceptibly, then stowed away his cutlass, carefully turned John around, and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Just walk forward,” he murmured in John’s ear. “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

John bit his lip nervously and nodded. The pirate guided his steps across the plank, until they were safely on the other ship.

“Alright,” said Stoker, pulling out his sword once more and touching the tip of it to John’s chin. “We’re going down to the brig.”

“Why? Please, just let me go. I’m really not worth the trouble,” John pled, trying not to move his jaw too much.

The pirate laughed low. “Apologies, my pretty sailor. But no man meets the Dread Pirate Master J. Stoker and escapes to tell the tale. I will not kill you for you are an innocent…” He turned his blade on its side and slid it under John’s jaw, coaxing his face upward to inspect him better. “…but you may have your uses yet. For now, the brig will do for you.”

The pirate forced him into the prisoner’s hold of the ship, where it was dark and dank. But least there were no rats. Just a wooden cot extending from the wall, an empty barrel with a small candlestick standing on top of it, and manacles fastened to the wall.

Stoker gestured to the chains. “Put those on.”

John winced. “Must I?”

“Can’t have you coming to slit my throat in the night, can I? On. Now.”

Reluctantly, John went to the wall and placed his slender wrists in the cuffs. Master Stoker produced a key from his hip pocket and took ahold of John’s arms to lock them. The pirate’s thumb, encased in the black leather of his gloves, briefly brushed over his pulse point, and John involuntarily shivered.

Stoker looked up at him. “Cold?” he asked.

John swallowed. “It’s a bit drafty, I’ll admit.”

“There should be a blanket stowed underneath your bunk.”

John obediently turned around and checked under the wooden board. The chains extending from the wall allowed a little mobility, enough to wear John would be able to reach his bed and the chamber pot in the corner. A slow smirk spread across the pirate’s face as the fresh-faced sailor bent over, which he quickly wiped away as John stood back up with a moth eaten afghan, which John immediately draped around his shoulders. “Better,” mumbled John.

“Excellent. Well…” He turned to go. “Pleasant dreams, Doctor John Smith. I’ll probably kill you in the morning.” With a mad cackle, the pirate turned on the heel of his mid-calf boots and tromped up the stairs.

John sat on his bed in despair, burying his head in his hands. How had he gone to from happy, free explorer to miserable, chained prisoner in one, fell blow?

After a while of staring bleakly into the darkness, John felt the large ship begin to move through the water. He got up and walked to the small, dingy porthole that viewed out of the back of the ship. The early morning light made the sky light grey. He watched his beloved blue boat shrink into the distance until it disappeared altogether.


	2. Compatissant

The good Doctor found the Master to be an unusually considerate captor. He did force him to clean the ship top to bottom, starboard to port, as soon as he awoke later that morning, but other than making him do chores, Stoker was actually fairly kind to his prisoner. When John thought Stoker wasn’t listening, he expressed a wish that he could have at least completed reading _Robinson Crusoe_ before he was dragged into the bondage of slavery. To his surprise, Stoker handed him the very book from his bedside table, with a bookmark thoughtfully slid between the pages John had been on before his capture. The pirate explained that before he’d set sail the previous night, he’d taken the liberty to help himself to the sailor’s supplies and his library. John was taken by surprise, not by the Master’s thievery of his property (he _was_ a pirate, after all), but by the fact that Stoker was willing to share the booty with him.

“I’ve found, my dear Smith, that unhappy slaves make for poor performance,” the Master had simply replied.

“Ah. I see,” John had said politely, pocketing the book to read later.

While it was John’s responsibility to clean the ship, do the washing, and occasionally assist his captor in ship maintenance, there was one job Stoker let him nowhere near, and that was the cooking. The good Doctor was surprised when, that evening, the Master set before him a plate full of hearty food.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to cook for, and I rather take pride in my culinary prowess,” the pirate said smugly.

John thought privately to himself that that would remain to be seen, but as the first bite passed though his lips, his blue eyes fluttered shut as his taste buds sang a Hallelujah chorus.

Stoker raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“Very good,” mumbled John after swallowing. “Thank you.”

Stoker smirked. “Thank _you_ , my dear Smith.”

After John was through washing the dinner dishes, the Master forced him back down to his chamber, where he was once again manacled. “May I ask one more favor?” John said, sitting down on his stiff wooden cot.

“What is it?” the pirate asked suspiciously.

“A matchstick for my candle, please. I like to read before I go to sleep.” John pulled out his copy of _Robinson Crusoe_ from his back pocket.

“Very well.” Stoker pulled a book of matches from the inside pouch of his long black coat and lit the candle for his prisoner. “Good night, Smith,” said the pirate, turning for the door. “Sleep well. I’ll probably kill you in the morning.”

The Doctor’s eyes followed him as he climbed up the stairs. Then he settled down on his bed and began to read.

***

The days followed as such. Every now and then, the Master would attack a passing ship, which John would silently disapprove of, but most of the time was passed with simply sailing through the water. It wasn’t necessarily the life John wanted, but he found that, considering that he was a prisoner on a pirate ship, it wasn’t such a bad time. And the Master, for all his bluster and deviousness, was quite the gentleman when not playing the fearsome pirate. The good Doctor found him surprisingly charming and intelligent.

One night, about two months after the Doctor’d been captured by the Master, John was awoken by the sensation of someone pressing a cloth over his nose and mouth. John’s eyes burst open and he tried to scream, but the cloth muffled the sound.

The brute chortled nastily in his face. He had beady eyes, a long unkempt curly brown and grey beard, and was missing most of his teeth. “What have we here?” the brute hissed in his ear.

John shuddered.

“They say the Master James Stoker don’t take no prisoners,” the brute continued, as he traced his gnarled fingernails down John’s cheek. “Maybe he just hadn’t never met someone pretty enough to take.”

John swallowed and said with a shaking voice, “When the Master gets down here, he’ll take care of you.”

The brute laughed. “Me crew is already on the job. The Master’s throat is bein’ slit as we speak. Then I’ll help myself to his collection of riches…and you, methinks, is his most precious gem.” The good Doctor recoiled as the horrid man laughed in his face again, his breath stinking strongly of onions and rum. “I’ll enjoy ravagin’ what was his.”

“Almost as much as I’ll enjoy killing you,” said a smooth voice behind him.

The brute whirled around to find Stoker behind him, who landed a well placed right hook to his jaw. The brute, knocked aside, shook his head, growled angrily, and drew his sword. The Master also drew his. Their blades clashed and clanged together, but before too long, the Master proved to be the superior swordsman, and had easily knocked the blade from his opponent’s hand. The brute got to his knees, glaring at the Master.

“Before I kill you,” said Stoker calmly. “I just want you to know-I killed most of your crew. The smarter ones fled and made off with your ship. Of course, not before I launched my cannon and sank it. You have no crew, no ship, and no treasure.” The Master smiled cruelly. “And therefore, I think it a harsher punishment to make you walk the plank and float adrift for awhile, so you may dwell on your failure before the sharks get you, rather than be merciful and slay you quickly. Good Doctor, if you would.”

John stood. “Yes?”

“There’s a rope hanging from my belt. Are you any good at tying knots?”

“None better,” John replied.

“Excellent. Take the rope and tie this cur’s hands behind his back, would you please?”

“Erm...sir?" said John tentatively.

“Yes?"

“It's just that...well..." John gestured to his manacles.

“Ah, of course." Stoker took the key from around his neck one-handed and tossed it to his prisoner.

“Thank you." John released himself. He then did as he had been instructed while Stoker held the point of his sword at the jugular vein of the brute’s throat. Then, he followed the pirates as the Master forced the invader up the stairs, across the deck, and over the side of the ship.

Listening to the satisfying splash, the Master chuckled and sheathed his sword. “Drunk. Let this be a lesson to you, my dear Doctor-only a drunken fool would be brave enough and idiotic enough to try and take on this pirate.”

“You saved me,” said John in awe.

“Don’t be so surprised. Where else am I to find such a reliable deck hand?” Stoker suddenly winced and clutched his side.

“You’re injured,” said John, approaching the pirate.

“A mere flesh wound. Nothing I can’t endure.” But when the Master pulled his hand away, it was drenched in dark red liquid.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me help you. I _am_ a Doctor, after all,” said John.

“Oh please, I’ve suffered many a worse injury before you came into my life, and I muddled through without your help. I’ll certainly do so-” But the Master gasped with pain as he tried to move away.

“Come on, Master,” said the good Doctor, catching him before he could fall. “Let me help you. After all, what’s a good deck hand without his Captain to boss him around?” John grinned, and Stoker laughed in spite of himself as he accepted the other man’s help.

Together, they struggled to the Master’s quarters, which were quite nice. The Master sat on the edge of his bed painstakingly, and the Doctor helped him out of his black greatcoat and white shirt. John tried not to take note of the pirate’s impressive muscles or well developed chest, and stuck to inspecting the wound. There was a long slice starting at the pelvic bone and traveling up his side; it was about a foot long and gushing blood. “You’ll need stitches,” John diagnosed. “Have you got a sewing kit? Some needle and thread?”

Stoker nodded and pointed to his privy chamber off to the side. In there, the Doctor found the desired stitching supplies, soap and water, and some rags and bandages. John gathered the necessary supplies and came back out.

“This may sound odd, but you don’t have any alcohol, do you?” John asked.

The Master looked alarmed. “My dear Doctor, I’d prefer that the man I’m entrusting with my health were sober whilst he sewed me back together, if you don’t mind.”

John laughed gently. “No, it’s to sterilize the wound. Can’t have you contracting gangrene, can we?”

“Oh. Over there, there’s some rum in a flask in the top drawer.”

“Capital,” John declared, retrieving the flask and returning to sit on the bed. He coaxed Stoker to lie on his side and hovered over him. “Brace yourself. This might sting a bit.”

James howled loudly as John painstakingly drizzled the alcohol over his wound. “Oh hush, you’re being loud enough to raise Davy Jones from his locker,” John teasingly admonished.

“It _hurts_ ,” James growled, almost whining.

John shook his head, smiling as he sterilized the needle with a match. “Ten minutes ago you were swordfighting the nastiest bloke I’ve ever seen and hardly batting an eye. Now look at you-whimpering like a baby over a little Doctoring. Dread Pirate Master indeed.”

James glared at him. “That’s disrespect, John. If you weren’t currently sewing up my wounds, I’d have you strung up and give you forty lashes.”

John paused in threading the needle. His eyes flickered down to meet James’s. “Would you really?” he murmured quietly. His tone was laced not with intimidation, but with interest.

The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a good moment, until James finally replied, “I would. Gladly.”

John raised a blonde brow slightly, but said no more, and instead, pushed the needle through James’s skin, and silently sewed James’s flesh back together. Then he cleaned the surrounding area, stained with crimson, with soap and water, and bandaged him up tight.

“Any more wounds?” John whispered.

James shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Very well.” John rose, wiping his hands with a clean rag. He turned to go, then paused. “I never did thank you for saving me from that ugly chap, did I? I believe he was going to do the most unspeakable things to me.”

“I have no doubt, Doctor,” said James, carefully rolling over on his back.

“Well…thank you,” said John softly.

“My pleasure. And thank you, John, for healing me.”

John smiled a little. “No problem. Well…good night.”

“Good night, Doctor.”

John was about to leave, but then he turned back. “I say, how are you going to chain me up whilst bedridden?”

Stoker rolled his eyes. “I just put my life in your hands, Doctor, and you proved remarkably trustworthy. Surely I can risk leaving you unbound for one night.”

John coughed. “Yes, I suppose you can. Well…again, goodnight.”

“Pleasant dreams. I’ll probably…” The Master’s threat was interrupted with a yawn. “…kill you in the morning.”

***

That night, John lay in his bunk, unmanacled, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He didn’t fall asleep for a very long time.

Neither did James.


	3. Feignant

From that moment on, their friendship grew, despite the fact that John was still Stoker’s prisoner. Stoker no longer shackled John up at night, and John thought less and less of his previous life. Many times throughout the days that passed, either John or James would look up from his work and catch the other staring, to which then they both hurriedly get back to whatever task they were performing.

One day, the Master came from his post at the wheel and crept up behind the blonde man, currently swabbing the deck. “Doctor,” he said in his ear.

John started and whirled around. “Ah, Master. You startled me.”

“Apologies,” said Stoker, barely concealing a smirk. He thought the other man’s nervous tendencies were kind of…sweet. “I want you to go into your quarters and stay there until I give the all clear.”

“Ah. Another raid, hmm?” The Master always made his captive go below as to not be spotted by the other ship, especially since the infamous raid on the _Paradox Machine_ where that nasty man had slunk into the Doctor’s cabin. “What unlucky vessel has the misfortunate of your boot on its floors?”

The Master grinned. “The _Nosferatu_. Its captain, Sabalom Glitz, is supposed to be carrying precious cargo from England to the New World, which I intend to have.”

“I see…you won’t kill anyone, will you?” John suddenly asked.

“I understand that you detest violence, my dear Doctor, but in my vocation, I’ve found it’s something of a necessary evil.”

“There’s no such thing,” John protested, brazen all of a sudden. “Murder is murder.”

“You didn’t seem to mind murder the night that treacherous brute broke into your room and was going to, as you eloquently put it, ‘do unspeakable things to you’.”

John was quieted. “But the crew of the _Nosferatu_ is innocent,” he finally said.

“No one is truly innocent, my dear Doctor. Everyone you meet is guilty of some crime or another. Nevertheless…as a favor to you, I shall avoid killing anyone during this plight.”

John’s blue eyes widened. “You will? For me? Why?”

“While I may recognize that violence is necessary, I do not particularly enjoy it,” said Stoker.

A small smile spread across the sailor’s face. “Thank you. You have no idea what that means to me,” he said, happily surprised.

The Master smiled as well, and began walking away. Then he turned back and said, “I’m not your enemy, John. You would do well to remember that.”

John watched him go, then resigned himself to his quarters.

***

Several hours later, the Doctor was sitting on his cot, worrying. _He’s usually back by now. What’s taking him so long?_ Not that he cared.

The fact is, John _shouldn’t_ have cared. This was the man who’d kidnapped him against his will and made him a slave, after all. No matter how well he’d been treated by the pirate, or how he’d saved him from the other horrid marauder, or how he’d agreed not to kill on the Doctor’s request…or how hypnotic his dreamy grey eyes were.

And yet, he did.

John clunked his head against the wall in frustration.

A few minutes later, John stood and climbed up to the higher decks. “A little peek won’t hurt,” he told himself.

On the main level, John peeped over the side. On the other ship, big and handsome, though not quite as big as the _Paradox Machine_ , he spied a ring of Naval sailors gathered around one rather burly one, obviously the captain, bringing a massive leather whip down on the bare back of a muscular brunette man with his hands bound behind his back. The crew cheered nastily as the whip made a resounding crack as it struck Stoker’s flesh. Stoker winced slightly, but otherwise remained stoic.

“Oh no,” whispered John, his heart leaping. “What can I do?”

He crept toward the door of the Master’s quarters and slipped inside, his mind buzzing. He spotted the pirate’s gun and his knife lying on his desk and, with some hesitation, grabbed them. Then, also grabbing Stoker’s spare greatcoat and hat, dashed back outside.

The crew of the _Nosferatu_ didn’t notice the sailor lithely making his way across the beam between the ships. John didn’t even remember his vertigo until he was already across. He was too focused on saving James. He aimed his gun in front of him and said, in what he hoped was an authoritative tone, “Alright, gents. Give back my sailing companion and there won’t be any trouble.”

All heads turned toward the sailor in shock. They, like all the others, thought the famous Dread Pirate Stoker sailed alone. “And who might you be?” said the Captain, Glitz.

John answered without thinking. “A pirate.”

All eyes bore into him, including James’s.

“That’s impossible! We got the pirate right here!” said Glitz, gesturing to Stoker.

“Perhaps you’ve never heard of me,” John laughed haughtily. “This is the Master, James Stoker, alright. But I, I am the Dread Pirate Smith! Plunderer of the high seas! And I demand you let my partner in crime go.”

“Oh, no,” guffawed Glitz. “I don’t think so. There are people on the main land who are very eager for this villain’s arrest. People who’ll pay a handsome bounty.”

“A handsome bounty won’t do much good for a dead man,” John threatened. “Release my companion to me this moment and no one gets hurt.” He pulled back the hammer of the gun as a warning.

Several of the crew members gulped and looked at Glitz apprehensively. Suddenly, Stoker shot out a leg and knocked the tubby Captain off his feet. He ran quickly to the Doctor’s side.

“Cheerio, gents!” said John cheerfully, as he turned to run back to the _Paradox Machine_ , but as he turned around, he saw one of the crew members dropping the plank into the watery depths below. They were trapped on the _Nosferatu_.

“Oh dear,” murmured John.

“I told you to stay on the ship!” hissed James. “Are you mad?”

“They were torturing you!” John protested, as the two outlaws backed away from the crew members advancing toward them.

“John, you may be a brilliant sailor, but you’re a complete idiot!”

John looked around quickly and spotted two things-a mass of barrels and a long rope hanging from some rigging. He looked at James. “Do you trust me?”

“ _What_?!”

“I said, do you trust me!”

James stared back into John’s eyes. “I do,” he said, soundly.

“Good. In that case, when I say run, _run_!” John tipped over a barrel and rolled it into the oncoming sailors, making them fall over. Then he grabbed James’s arm and tugged him over to the dangling rope.

“What are you doing?” James said as John, like quicksilver, pulled out James’s knife and cut his bonds.

“You and I are going to swing on this rope and jump onto our ship.”

James looked at him in alarm. “You _are_ mad,” he breathed.

“You said you trust me! Now hang on!” John and James both grabbed the rope and ran backward to gain momentum. “One, two, three, now!” John called. Together, they ran forward and jumped at the same time. Miraculously, both men landed on the front deck of the ship.

Without a moment to lose, James began opening the sails. John quickly raised anchor, and they pulled away from the _Nosferatu_ , its crew shaking their fists at them.

James snatched his gun from John's clutches. "My dear Doctor, this is not a toy. It's a very dangerous weapon. You could've been hurt!"

John grinned. "It wasn't loaded."

James's face fell. He checked the gun's revolver and found that, in fact, there were no bullets in the round. James glared up at John's bastard-y, self-satisfied face, and grumbled, "idiot," before stalking off back to his helm to steer them away from the other ship.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll pursue us?” John asked James. 

“They wouldn’t dare,” laughed James derisively. “Now that they believe there are _two_ fearsome pirates on this vessel.” He grinned toothily at John. “Very clever of you, albeit foolish. Well done.”

John looked away shyly. "Just...doing what had to be done. It was all play acting, you know."

"You could have fooled me; you certainly fooled those dimwits back there. Perhaps you missed your calling: maybe  _you_  should have been a pirate."

John fought a blush (though he didn't know why; it wasn't exactly a compliment, although on James's silver tongue, it sounded that way). He removed the borrowed coat and hat and handed them to their shirtless owner. “Here. These are yours.”

“So they are. However, they don’t look half bad on you, my dear John,” James affectionately teased. “Even if the color is completely wrong.”

“Don’t I know it,” remarked John, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. “How ever can you stand to wear all that black in this heat?”

James merely smiled and said, “I suppose I better put on another shirt.”

“I agree. But after we tend to those whipping marks on your back. My, but they were vicious, weren’t they?” said John, steering James to his own quarters so he could administer the first aid. James couldn’t help but laugh.

***

That night, while John was reading in his bunk, James came down in his room. “Hello,” said John, sitting up. “Back feeling better?”

“As if the ordeal never happened. You have a magical touch,” said James, smiling in that deviously charming, so sure of himself way that strangely made John’s heart beat a little faster. “Thank you. For retrieving me.”

John smiled bashfully, his cheeks turning pink. “Anytime.”

James cleared his throat and gestured to John’s book. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it’s a classic,” said John.

“May I hear some of it?” James asked.

“You…you want me to read to you?” John stammered.

“If you don’t mind.” James sat on the edge of John’s sturdy bunk. “Please. Go ahead.”

John coughed several times. “Alright.” He shyly turned his eyes down to the text. “ _‘Are you content now?’ asked the Caterpillar. ‘Well, I should like to be a little taller, sir, if you wouldn’t mind,’ said Alice. ‘Three inches is such a wretched height to be…_ ”


	4. Désorienté

It had been five months since John’s capture when illness struck.

“John?” said James one day. “You’re not looking well at all.”

“Hmm?” John said, looking up from supporting himself on his mop. “Oh, no, no, I’m…fine…” John’s eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forward. In his stupor, he barely registered strong arms catching him.

James put the sailor to bed in his personal quarters and devoted his time to nursing him back to health. After four days, John’s fever finally broke. He could drink water, and later, take chicken broth, and keep it down.

Then one day, when James came to check on him, he pulled away the covers and slid his hand under the patient’s warm back. “Come on, John. Up you go.”

John looked at the pirate sluggishly and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Where are we going?”

“You need to scour your body of germs. You’re going to have a bath.”

Had John’s mind been clear, he would have protested sharply, insisting that he was perfectly alright, thank you very much, but seeing as he was so disoriented, he allowed James to escort him into the bathroom, where there was a tub of soapy warm water already waiting. John blushed as the pirate unbuttoned him out of his sleep clothes, then goosebumps appeared on his skin when James took his gloves off and made contact with him, flesh to flesh, to help him into the bath. Then he left him for a few minutes just to soak his achy bones. The warm embrace of the bath helped to clear his mind and simultaneously relax him.

“This…” John said yawningly, when James came back with a chair and settled himself beside the tub, “…isn’t necessary, you know. It’s not that I’m not grateful, but I can bathe myself.”

James took a rag, dipped it in the warm bath, and dragged it across John’s freckle-spattered shoulders and back, drawing a sigh from the sailor. “I’m perfectly aware, John. But you must agree, it is nice to have someone take care of you when you’re ill.”

“Mmm.” John made a contented, sleepy noise as James continued to wash him. Truth be told, he hadn’t had a _good_ wash since boarding the _Paradox Machine_ , and having been sick made him feel extra yucky. “I’ll get back to work tomorrow, James,” yawned John again. “Promise.”

The pirate chuckled deeply. “No rush. The important thing is that you get well.”

John, his head facing away from the other man, smiled.

James washed John’s shaggy bright hair over with water, the wave of warmth washing over him feeling extremely nice. “Why don’t you tell me another of those fascinating stories?”

“Alright,” said John, as the other man combed soapy fingers through his scalp. “Once upon a time…there was a beautiful young woman, who was very bright and loved to read. She read of exotic places and marvelous adventures and dreamed of someday leaving her small village and seeing the world for herself. But she had to stay home, and keep the house for her widowed father, a kindly merchant whom she loved dearly.

“One day, while on the road, the merchant took refuge in what he believed was an abandoned castle. But it was actually the home of a great and fearsome Beast. The Beast, angered that his home had been invaded, threw the old merchant into his dungeon, never to see the light of day again.

“Well, the young woman, worried by the fact that her father had not returned home yet, decided to set out on a quest to find him. She followed his path till she reached the Beast’s home. She snuck in, unnoticed, and searched the castle till she found her father in the dungeon. ‘Run, my child!’ he urged, ‘for there is a terrible monster here, who is holding me prisoner!’”

“‘Father, I won’t leave without you!’ the girl replied. Just then, the Beast burst in. The girl was frightened, but swallowed her fear and begged the Beast to release her father. The Beast said he would let him go, but only if the girl would stay in his place. The girl, despite her father’s forbiddance, agreed. The Beast tossed the merchant out, and the girl got settled in her new home.

“Despite the Beast’s fearsome mien, and the fact that he had _such_ a temper, the Beast and the young woman, over time, became good friends. The Beast, who’d been alone for most of his life, was touched by the woman’s kindness, and in turn, she was surprised that he had the capacity to be kind. For a Beast, that is.” John smiled. “One day, after many weeks had passed, the Beast revealed to the young woman that he had not always been a beast. In fact, he’d once been a handsome prince. But an evil enchantress cast a spell on him, which turned him into a monster. No one stayed with him, out of fear of his looks. Which was unfortunate, because the only way to break the spell was for the Beast to love, and be loved in return, by another person. Until the woman and her father had come, the Beast had been alone and had no one to love for a very long time. The Beast said that there was no hope that he would ever break the spell, and decided to let the young woman return home to her father. The girl, touched by the Beast’s compassion, gave him a kiss. Suddenly, there was a flash of light! and the Beast transformed into the handsome prince he once was. The love shared between the two of them had broken the spell. So, the girl and the prince got married, invited the father to come and live with them in their palace, which was now thriving again because of the lifting of the curse, and lived happily ever after. The end.”

James had listened very carefully throughout the story, never making a peep. Now, after a moment of silence, the pirate said, “so what you’re saying is…the monster could be loved?”

John turned around and smiled at him. “He wasn’t a monster. Not really. It was only everyone’s perception of him. The girl loved him for who he truly was.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a minute, then James slowly leaned forward and kissed him.

John shut his eyes and relaxed into the kiss, bringing his damp hand up to the back of the pirate’s thick, dark hair. The pirate’s lips moved against his with surprising tenderness, and John soon found himself surrendering to the probing tongue poking gently into his mouth, winding his arms around James’s neck, who had taken off his coat and shirt to bathe John.

Regrettably, John had to pull away. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. His pupils were slightly enlarged. “I’ve-you probably don’t-it’s just that I’ve been ill. I want to, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to get you sick.”

“You’ve been well for the past couple of days, John, just tired,” said James. “But if you’re not up to anything, I would understand-”

“No, no, I do, really,” said John hurriedly, climbing out of the bath water, water dripping on the floor and onto James’s trousers as the blonde man straddled his lap, cupping the other man’s face in his hands and bringing his own face down for another kiss. James’s strong arms came up John’s back and brought him close, stroking his soft, damp, warm skin. They continued to kiss tenderly, their hands busy roaming each other’s bodies, savoring the feeling of soft flesh and tight muscle. They broke for air, then with a light growl, James dipped down to the long column of John’s neck, nuzzling the vulnerable skin there. One of James’s hands wandered down to John’s tight arse and lightly squeezed one of his cheeks. John moaned in the back of his throat, arching into the darker man, his hardening cock pressing into his stomach. Feeling a corresponding erection underneath him, John began lightly rolling his hips against him, and James made a noise, bucking upward.

John once again claimed James’s lips, and the pirate’s hand tangled in his lover’s golden hair. John’s right hand slid down James’s chest and tweeked one of his dark nipples. James’s hand clenched and pulled on John’s hair, making him groan.

“I want you, my pretty sailor,” James hissed into his mouth. “I want you on your hands and knees for me, _begging_ for my cock.”

“Oh-James,” John gasped as James wrapped a hand around his length and began stroking it. He bucked his hips into the pirate’s fist.

“Call me by my title,” purred the pirate.

John swallowed and looked down into his dark lover’s eyes. “Master,” he whispered seductively.

The Master moaned and moved his hand faster. The sailor’s eyes fluttered shut, losing himself to the magic touch of the other man, murmuring, “Master”, “oh yes”, and “please” occasionally. Pretty soon, the blonde man’s head was hanging back on his thin shoulders, his mouth slightly agape, and he was trembling, gripping James’s shoulder enough to leave bruises. James was sucking and biting John’s neck, sure to leave marks.

“Master? Master? J-j-j-j- _james_ ,” John whined, gasping and whimpering his way through his climax, coming all over the pirate’s behaired belly. Breathing erratically, John slumped against his lover, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

James chuckled deeply and ran his hands soothingly up and down John’s back.

“Can’t believe we just did that,” mumbled John into James’s skin, his breath tickling as he laughed bashfully.

“It was my pleasure,” James murmured affectionately into his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Speaking of ‘your pleasure’,” said John, pulling back to stare down at the pirate’s obvious arousal, making quite the tent through his black trousers. “Can I do anything for you?”

“It’s not necessary. I know you must be tired,” said James, stroking his hair.

John’s lips twitched in a smile, touched by the pirate’s concern. “Come on,” he said, climbing off of his lap and coaxing him up. He took his hands and led him backward, into the bedroom, and lay down with him. He briefly noticed that James had changed the bedding before rolling the two of them over to where he was sitting on top, straddling the darker man’s torso and delved back into his lips.

James lay back, enjoying the feeling of his mouth being claimed, John's lips tugging at his shyly. He tasted so sweet. Their lips simultaneously parted and their tongues touched, gently battling for dominance. James finally surrendered and John slid inside, his delicious tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. James ran his hands up and down the soft skin of John's back, enjoying making the other man shiver and sigh as he stroked his thumbnails over sensitive nerves.

John pulled away, sneaking in one more swift, tender kiss on the lips. Then he slid down a little, planting one on his sternum. Then another, an inch lower. Then another, then another...

James's blood followed his lover down, rushing to his groin, making his cock grow harder. John continued down his chest and belly, then placed tantalizing kisses all over his hipbones as he undid James's belt buckle and unzipped his fly. John placed his nimble fingers on James's waistline, looking up at his lover questioningly. An excited smile spreading out under his whiskers, James nodded his permission eagerly.

John, chuckling amusedly at the pirate's enthusiasm, dragged his trousers and pants down and off of his legs. Then he nuzzled his way back up James's inner thighs, taking his dear sweet time getting to James's straining cock.

“John, _please_ ," hissed James through his teeth. “Don't tease."

John smirked. “Alright, my pretty pirate. Since you asked so nicely."

“That only works when _I_ say- _ahhhhh_." James's statement was lost as John wrapped his lips around the wet head of his cock, sucking the salt from it, swirling the tip of his tongue around the slit. John wrapped his hand around the shaft, choosing to focus his attention on the tip for the time being. John had a talented tongue, flicking it at well timed intervals, mostly just lightly sucking for the most part. James sighed contentedly, threading his fingers through damp strands of John's golden hair. John traced his fingertips up and down James's cock, evoking pleased shudders from the darker man. Affectionately chuckling, John decided to take in more, his lips slipping down further on James's length.

“Oh, John," groaned James happily, his head falling backward on the pillows, his eyes shutting in pleasure as the other man took his entire girth. John swallowed around him again and again. James found himself thrusting upward. John made an encouraging noise, and the two worked out a rhythm between them, James regularly jutting his hips forward, and John bobbing his bright head up and down. It wasn't long before James was breathing quickly, his fists clenching in the sheets. His length thickened and strained in John's mouth.

“John, John, John-oh!" James climaxed, ejecting hot spurts in the other man's mouth. John swallowed it down faithfully, nursing him through the aftershocks. James slumped back against the mattress, breathing hard. By Poseidon-that had been the most masterful blow job he'd ever received in his life.

John carefully pulled off of his softening cock and pulled himself up the bed till he was nose to nose with the pirate. “A job well done, eh, Captain?" he quipped.

James groaned and kissed the self-satisfied smirk right off of the other man, burying his tongue inside him and tasting himself. Their lips pulled apart and James, wrapping one arm around John's torso, said, “Sleep, John. It shall soon be daybreak."

“You're right," John yawned, his eyelids drooping with weariness. His blonde head slumped on the pillow beside the pirate's, and one of his arms fell across James's shoulder, his leg sliding itself over James's hip. His blue eyes fluttered closed and he was soon sleeping peacefully beside his lover.

James chucked with amusement at how the sailor had made himself into a blanket, and pulled the real covers over both of them. Then he blew out the candlestick and joined the other man in sleep.


	5. Expressif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn, this chap took forever. Whatever...epilogue/last chapter hopefully coming soon.

The next morning, John woke up with James's face buried in the crook of his neck, his erection digging into his inner thigh. His own cock was pressed up against James's stomach.

James, who had awoken at the same time, looked up at John with eyebrows raised, as if to ask, _well, what do we do with these pesky erections?_

John's hand drifted down to cup James's thigh. “May I?" he whispered shyly. James nodded.

John scooted down to where their cocks were aligned, then caught them both up in his hand and began softly stroking them together.

“Oh, John," murmured James, his voice thick with sleep and pleasure. John covered his mouth with his own, and their tongues tangled, as John's hand continued to run up and down their respective lengths. Pretty soon, their hips were thrusting into each other, causing a rutting effect. James rolled over on top of the other man, grinding against his cock. John moaned into his mouth, and they both came, spilling their juices on each other and the sheets.

James sighed tiredly. “And I just changed the bedding on here, too," making John genuinely laugh.

“You know," said John, sneaking in another kiss, “A simple ‘good morning' would have sufficed."

“You started it," said James, lifting an eyebrow.

John hummed appreciatively. “Fair enough."

***

When John emerged from the Captain's quarters, clean and dressed in fresh clothes, he was tossed a sword. “And what is this for?" he asked.

“Practice, for now," said James, who was also armed. He had ditched his usual greatcoat and three-cornered hat, and stood there in his shirtsleeves, looking dashing as ever in the salty sea breeze. “You should learn how to fight. It's good for self-defense."

“I'm not really one for violence," John admitted, running his palm over the weapon's mahogany sheath.

“I'm well aware, my dear John. I should hope you would never have to use such a skill, as long I'm around. Nevertheless, you should know how, just in case." James pulled his blade from its cover and gripped the handle firmly in his hand, standing at the ready. “Now draw."

John unsheathed the sword and tried to mimic the pirate's stance.

“No, no, you'll fall over like that. Always support yourself on your back foot, which in this case, would be your right. Also, you're holding the sword too high. Let me show you."

John fought back a snort as the other man came up behind him to help re-position his posture. It seemed almost like a cheap move. However, he found himself blushing when the pirate's gloved hand skated down his chest for a brief moment. “Alright," said James, resuming his original position. “Mind the parry. _En garde!_ "

Their blades clacked together as John deflected the pirate's first strike. Then he swept downward to catch another, then he tried adding a jab of his own. James almost casually deflected it. “Trying leaning in with your attacks," the pirate advised. “Like so!"

James lunged forward, but John instinctually curled his defense, causing the sword to clatter out of the pirate's hand.

James looked at his sword lying on the deck in surprise. “Um. Sorry," apologized John, biting his lip.

James looked up, grinning at him. “Sorry? Whatever for? That was brilliant!"

“It was?" John said.

“Well, yes," said James. “Granted, I was going a bit easy on you because it was your first time, but still, very promising, John. Excellent!"

The tips of John's ears turned red. “Thank you," he said, grinning bashfully.

James picked up his sword and readied himself. “Again. Go!"

***

They went for several more rounds. John didn't manage to knock the sword from James's hand again that day, but only because the pirate didn't pull his punch anymore. Still, James told him, he was quite good for a beginner. What he lacked in technique, he made up for in fleetness of foot and hand-eye coordination.

The scrimmage had John's skin buzzing, and for the rest of the day, he felt restless, anxious. It wasn't until dinnertime, when James served him some wine, that he calmed down some. The alcohol spread through his system, warming his blood and easing his muscles.

James cleared the dinner dishes. As John handed James his plate, the pirate's leather covered fingers brushed the back of his hand, and John shuddered.

James noted this and made swift work of putting the dishes in the sink. They could wait till tomorrow.

He rested his hand on John's hip as he leant up to kiss him. John sighed, kissing him back, swaying slightly as James pressed into him. James's other hand slid up John's back, holding onto him as he bent him backward, pushing him down onto the wood of the table. John made a wild noise and deepened the kiss. Their hands smacked on the table, and their fingers interlaced. James slid his thigh between the other man's legs as their kiss grew steadily more desperate. Finally, they pulled apart, gasping for air, and John looked up at James, his blue eyes dilated, and whispered, “Bedroom?"

James nodded and all but carried him to his quarters, where he soon had him up against the door, pushing his braces off of his shoulders and ripping his shirt open. As he pushed his trousers and pants down his lover's long legs, James took ahold of John's slender wrists and pinned them above his blonde head with one hand. John made an approving groan, which gave James an idea, but he decided to store it for later.

He led John to the bed and sat down, pulling the naked man onto his lap. “Tell me, my dear," he murmured salaciously, idly running a gloved thumb down the smooth curve of his lover's spine. “How many times did I disarm you during our practice today?"

John squirmed as the leather brushed a particularly ticklish spot on the small of his back. “F-five, I believe," he said, unsure what that had to do with anything.

“Hmm," said James thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Two for each, I think. Does that sound fair, my pretty sailor?"

“Two...what?" John asked. But then, as James's gloved palm caressed his arse cheeks, he understood. “Oh! Erm, yes, perfectly fair," he said.

“Ah ah ah." James thumbed his chin. “You forgot. My title?"

“Forgive me," said John, playing his roll. “Ten swats sounds fair to me, _Master_."

“Very good," said James, smirking seductively. “That or ‘sir' will do in this setting from now on. Lay across my lap please, my dear."

John, skin bristling with excitement, hurriedly wriggled to where his body was crossways over the pirate's legs. “Excellent. Now, don't forget to thank me when I'm done."

John lay perfectly still, waiting. James ran his gloved hand again over the curse of John's arse. His backside, like the rest of him, was exquisite. James longed to take his gloves off and feel the soft peachy flesh against his, but keeping them on was more appropo for the situation. He hesitated for a second, building the suspense, then brought his hand down on his arse.

John moaned, arching against him. There was a bright pink hand print on his cheek where James had struck him. James grinned at it for a second, then spanked him again. And again, and again, over and over till John's hind was burning red. James could feel his lover's erection pressing against his thigh, hard as iron. “That was ten, my dear," he said. “I'm waiting."

John was panting. “Th-thank you, Master."

“You're welcome," said James, loving the sound of his title in the fairer man's heavily aroused voice. Truth be told, he hadn't picked it for this express reason-but now that he'd met this incredible man, he was glad of the fortunate accident. He carefully turned the other man over to where he was sitting across his lap. “I didn't hurt you, did I?" he added in a lower tone.

John was grinning. “Are you kidding? That was sensational! You know, I'm not quite as delicate as I look."

“I understand that, John, but you must comprehend, you're very...precious to me," said the pirate carefully. “The last thing in the world I want is to harm you."

“Understood. That's very sweet of you," said John, kissing him chastely.

James grinned toothily. “Good. Now that the sentiments are out of the way-I have an idea I want to try."

“Alright, I'll bite: what's the idea?" John asked.

The grin turned wicked. “Just lie on the bed, my dear. On your back."

John obliged, and James moved away to grab something. When he turned back around, he was holding a coil of rope.

John caught on immediately and raised an eyebrow. “Oho! Very interesting, Captain."

“A tad cliche, I'll admit, but classics are classics for a reason, I always say."

“I say, old chap, you seem to have a bit of a fetish for binding me up," John noted amusedly as James leant over him, securing his wrists to the headboard.

“What can I say? This body of yours is simply too pretty not to tie up." James leered down at him. “Loose enough?"

John twisted his wrists experimentally. “Seems alright. I'll let you know if I feel any sufficient lack of blood flow, though."

“Excellent." James climbed off the bed to derobe himself, then got back on top of the sailor, leaned down, and captured his lips in a kiss.

John sighed into the kiss, opening his lips willingly. James's hands-his slightly silly leather gloves now discarded with the rest of his clothing-caressed his skin lovingly, skating down his sides and lingering over his pelvic bones. Then his fingers slid upward and drew circles around one of John's nipples, making it perk up. James lightly grasped it and rolled it between his fingers, making John groan encouragingly. James simultaneously bit down on John's bottom lip and tweaked his nipple hard, causing John to squeak, and his hips thrust upward.

John tried his best to look disapprovingly at his lover, but a mischievous smile was playing on his lips. “That's not fair," he said.

“You're tied up; I don't have to play fair," James smirked back. Then he leant down and started sucking on the fairer man's neck, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Ah! James-" John gasped. His neck had always been unusually sensitive, and the pirate was devilishly talented with his mouth. James left a love bite on the corner of John's jaw, under his left ear, then made a trail of suction-y kisses down his neck, ending at his breastbone. James paused only briefly to grin wickedly at him, before dipping down his body to take the other, untouched nipple between his teeth and tease it with his tongue.

“James," whined John, whose hips were twitching, his cock desperately hard.

“What is it?" whispered James, even though he damn well knew what it was. “Tell me what you need."

John swallowed and licked his lips. “You. Please," he entreated quietly, his blue eyes pleading and clouded with lust. “Touch me."

James waited.

John added, in an absolutely _filthy_ tone, “... _Master_."

James had to bite his lip to keep from moaning at that. John was just so _exquisite_ when he begged. James moved down again and gently took John's erection in his hand, lightly stroking, making the other man gasp and moan and twitch so beautifully. At the same time, he slipped a finger under him and found his entrance, teasing his finger there, encircling the rim enticingly.

“Is this what you want?" he murmured.

“Oh...God, yes," John groaned, already so achingly aroused. But neither of them wanted to finish this just yet.

James, with some regret, moved back up the fair man's freckled torso and touched two of his fingers to his pink lips. “Here-suck on these."

John looked up at him, and kept steady eye contact as he curled his pink tongue around the digits and sucked them into his mouth. James shivered. John lovingly lathed his fingers in cool wetness, making clear his want for this. It made James so hard. No longer able to stand waiting, he pulled his fingers out of John's mouth with a small _pop!_ and carefully inserted one inside him. John sucked in air through his teeth. James took him in a deep kiss as he worked him open. He precisely crooked his fingers, and John moaned headily. He scissored and curled until finally John pulled away from his lips, his breathing hitched. “I'm ready," he said.

“Are you sure?" James asked. They both knew, after this night, things between them would be completely different.

John bit his lip nervously, then nodded. “Yes. Take me." His eyes burned brightly.

James positioned himself at John's entrance, then carefully, painfully slowly, pushed himself into the other man's tight heat. “Ah!" gasped John sharply.

“Am I hurting you?" James asked.

John hesitated, then shook his head. “It's alright. Please, keep going. I'm alright, really."

James nodded, then pushed himself the rest of the way in, with a grunt. John was so tight and warm around him; he felt _fantastic_. James took a moment, letting the fairer man get accustomed to the intrusion, stroking his sides soothingly. John was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, his skin glistening with perspiration. Finally, he looked up at the pirate, his hands fisting in their bonds with urgency. “Please," he breathed.

James really did moan this time, as he drew himself out and pushed back in. John groaned with pleasure as he squeezed him deliciously. Encouraged, James slid out briefly and rammed back in, making John squeal with delight.

“You want it like that, hm?" James growled, a manic gleam in his eye as he grinned hungrily down at his sailor. John smiled back and nodded enthusiastically, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. “Ah, ah, ah. I want to hear you say it."

With a decidedly debauched undertone in his mien, John played his part as the seduced innocent and moaned, melodramatically wanton, “Oh _please_ , Master, give it to me, take me hard-" Another wild noise as James slammed in.

They set up an enthusiastic rhythm. James thrust particularly hard and hit that sweet spot, making John's eyes roll back in his head in ecstasy. James slid over his prostate over and over till John came, gasping and shaking with pleasure. His skin was awash with clean sweat, the smell of his arousal dizzying, making James moan heavily. He took his time finishing, assuming his own slow, deep, steady pace, opting for meaningful “love-making" rather than frenzied animal sex. Not that he minded fucking the sailor's brains out. He really didn't. _Really._

Then, he too climaxed, with a low noise in the back of his throat. He slumped over, his cheek resting on his lover's bare chest. John laughed quietly, fondly. James raised his head and smiled at him, then reached up and undid the sailor's bonds. As soon as his wrists were free, John cupped his face in his hands and tenderly kissed him.

James kissed him back, pleasantly surprised. “And what was that for?" he asked mildly.

John smiled bashfully, and shrugged. “No reason."

They both knew the reason. It's just that neither of them wanted to be the first to say it. So they let it go unsaid...for now. James simply smiled back, and returned the kiss. And then they both nestled down in bed and drifted off to sleep. For after all...they'd both had quite the workout.


	6. Accueil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck dammit, it's been so crazy, with college and moving and everything. I tried updating this before, but my computer freaked on me and lost all my work. Anyway, here's the end. Thanks for reading, guys.
> 
> Also, my friend MistressAinley is doing a fan art for this fic! :D So when she posts it, I add a link to the story. You should Czech out her work; it's amazing. (Thanks again, Carla!)
> 
> -Catie

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and the pirate asked himself what good deed he could have done to receive this amazing man. John Smith had become as much a part of his life as sunshine or fresh water or clean air. James and his captive spent all day and all night by each other's side, working together by daylight, and wrapped up in each other by the moon. Always close at hand, if not outright touching, and omnipresent in each other's hearts.

It was too good to be true.

One night, James lay there in bed, his sailor's head resting on his heart, thinking. "We'll be landing in France soon," he said finally, breaking the restful silence.

"Oh? What, you have trade partners there or-something?" John asked.

"Not quite..." James prayed that his voice didn't break. "You're going to stay there."

"I am?" John looked up. "When will you be back to get me?"

James couldn't bring himself to look into his lover's reflective eyes, more blue than the very ocean he called his home. "I won't," he said quietly. "I'm...letting you go."

"What?" John gasped, sitting up completely, fully awake now. "But why?"

"Don't argue with me, Doctor. I'm still the Captain of this ship, if you'll recall."

John's eyes grew tight as he said, "and I'm what, precisely? Just a-"

"Deck hand? Plainly put, yes," snapped James irritably, rolling over so he wouldn't have to see the hurt in John's face.

But John, brilliant John, was no fool. "You're trying to make me angry with you. I don't understand why. Do you..." John's breath caught slightly. "Do you want me to go?" he said woundedly. James could almost hear the unspoken question in his voice: _does this mean nothing to you at all?_

"I want you...to have your freedom," James struggled to say.

"We are not the fairytale maiden and the enchanted Beast, James. This is real life, we're real people, these are real...feelings..." John's voice trailed off.

James refused to let himself hope what that could mean. "You were a free man before you met me. It's not fair of me to keep you, like a bird in a cage."

"James, I'm not a bird, I'm a man!" laughed John uneasily. Then his voice grew serious, but so, so sure. "Please, James. Look at me."

James slowly, reluctantly, turned over. John was smiling down at him sadly. Sleep tousled and blonde hair unruly, the sailor was more beautiful than the pirate had ever seen him. "What?" he asked croakily. "What is it."

John took a little breath, as if nervous. James felt him take his hand in his.

"James...let me tell you a new story."

James listened.

"Once upon a time, there was a young boy, whose family moved from England to the New World. To Boston, to be exact. His father was a boatsman, and being very close to the boy, had passed on all his knowledge and love of sailing to his son.

"Unfortunately, when the boy was sixteen or so, the father was killed in the American Revolution, leaving his son, wife, and daughter to fare on their own. The wife had no choice but to marry a rich businessman, whom the boy disliked intensely. In retrospect, the man was a good enough man, and could provide for his mother and sister well enough, but he and the boy had disagreeances. The boy was one of the new patriotic generation, and thought, like his father, that it was right of the colonies to break away from England. The boy's father-in-law was a traditional Loyalist, who proudly supported King George the Third. When the boy completed his basic schooling, he left his new family behind and went on to become a medical student in New Hampshire, at Dartmouth College.

"The boy-well, the man, I suppose I should call him now-graduated top of his class. His family sent for him to return home, and set up his practice in Boston. But the man, still in dislike of his father-in-law, saved his money and purchased a small boat instead. He set out on the high seas, with idealistic dreams of traveling to far off lands like Africa and serving the sick and needy-a good intention, but really quite impractical, I'll admit. And he did sail, quite a bit. For nearly ten years. And he did help those in need, where he could. And the man was happy...for the most part.

"The one thing his father had never told him about sailing was that without a crew, or family, or a lover, or at least a friend, it was an awfully lonely life. Oh, you could distract yourself with chores and books and the like. But when you look out on that neverending mass of blue, and are reminded that you are floating, alone, with no one for miles and miles...it is the most empty feeling in the world.

"But I digress. Anyway, the man sailed for nearly a decade, making friends here and there, but never staying in one place for long. Never...having anyone. Until one night. Until one night, when a fearsome pirate whisked him away from his boat and his bubble of loneliness he'd formed for himself. At first the man was upset at being forced to leave the life he'd chosen behind. But the pirate, despite the crimes staining his soul, was good to him, and kind. And slowly, the man began to realize this was what he was missing all along: companionship.

"The man and the pirate grew closer and closer, until they could no longer hide their feelings for each other. The man realized he never wanted to be without his pirate, and hoped to God that the pirate felt the same way. Oh, he knew deep down the pirate loved him just as much as he did him, but the man had a fear that a storm would strike, and the pirate would be lost at sea, or that the pirate would be just a little too slow during a swordfight and meet his match, or simply that the pirate would decide he didn't want him anymore. But if I know the pirate-and I think I do-he would always love the man. And..." John, coming the conclusion of his parable, lay beside James, resting his head on his shoulder. "...hopefully, they lived happily ever after."

James cupped his lover's face. "And the man truly did not want to go back?"

"No," said John. "Because he'd finally found home."

James closed his eyes and tenderly kissed him. John smiled and returned the kiss. After a moment, James felt the other man gently prodding him to turn over on his back, so he could sit atop of him. "What do you say, Master Stoker?" John whispered softly in the darkness. "Can I stay?"

James kissed him again. "Forever and ever. As long as you wish."

John grinned and eagerly kissed him, parting his lips and slipping his tongue instead. Having his mouth plundered like so made James's head swim. John pulled away to dip down to nip at his neck, and the pirate inadvertently moaned. "John," he gasped, as his lover explored his throat with his teeth and tongue. "To my- _unh_ -understanding, you may like me as a person-ah-you tend to disapprove of my-oh, God-my chosen vocation in life."

"Ah, yes, there is that," said John, sitting up, looking slightly smug, and James could feel stinging teeth marks on the side of his neck. "Well, to be honest, the whole pirate thing is...rather sexy, plainly put." John grinned down at him wryly. "And now that you don't kill anyone unless absolutely necessary...but then, there is the stealing. We probably should do something about that...James? Have you ever heard of the legend of Robin Hood?"

"The name sounds familiar," says James.

"Well..." John hovered over him, tracing his fingertips faintly over the contours of the pirate's skin, leaving a path of goosebumps and making James shiver. "You see, Robin was originally a nobleman of his country; the accounts tend to vary in which part of England he derived from, but generally, the story goes that Robin Hood was from Nottingham, or least nearby." The pirate was having trouble concentrating, for the other man's fingers were now drifting south, toward his rapidly-growing erection. John grabbed James's chin and forced him to make eye contact. "You must pay attention, dearest," said John calmly, mischief glinting in his azure eyes as his fingers encircled the base of James's cock. James fought back a whimper. John continued on as he began lightly stroking his length. "Now, the autocrat, or so to speak, of this area, was an evil Sheriff who confiscated all of the poor folk's income and property and enslaved them. Robin was highly opposed to the Sheriff's treatment of his people, and became an outlaw, much like Moses from the Old Testament, or El Zorro in Mexico, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor."

"I see. And this is your idea?" James managed to say in a straight tone, even as John's hand continued to run up and down his pulsating manhood.

"Precisely. You know, Robin didn't get this idea alone. He was inspired by his lover, the ravishing Maid Marion, whom he saved from the heinous Sheriff of Nottingham in a very galliant rescue-winning an archery contest. In your case, it was broadswords, but let's not split hairs."

"Indeed," said James. "So, to review-you want me to continue piracy, but you want me to give my proceeds to those in need."

"Exactly!" said John, moving his hand a little faster, drawing a shaky gasp from his lover. "And I could give them medical attention, if they need it, like I used to. I didn't study at Dartmouth just let my knowledge of the human anatomy go to waste."

"You're definitely putting it to good use now," the pirate couldn't help mentioning.

"Hush," said John, smirking. "So-do we have a deal?"

"Yes," said James. "My dear John, why must you be so insufferably good?"

"Ah, but I'm wicked when I want to be," said John, suddenly releasing James's straining length and cruelly squeezing his balls. James let out a sharp, needy cry.

"Now," said John, excruciatingly slowly twisting his testicles, "I believe I have admitted my feelings toward you. And considering the position we're currently in, I think it would be wise of you to admit yours. Wouldn't you agree?" He punctuated this question with a sharp turn of his wrist.

"AH!" James arched off of the bed. He'd never needed to come so hard in his life. "What-what was it, again?"

John rolled his eyes. "God, but you're thick. Alright: I. Love. You. And now, you would presumably follow that declaration with...?"

"Ah...ah..." James's blood was boiling.

"Can't hear you, old chap," goaded John cheerfully. "Come on, it's just you and I. Say it and you can come, I know you want to."

Want to? Need to! "I...I-I..." John released his balls and began stroking him again. "I love you!" James cried. "I-oh, _God_ , John-I love you."

John smiled archly. "Good boy." Then he stroked him into completion, the pirate a quivering, whimpering, undignified mass of nerves.

John leant over him and kissed his forehead. "Very good, James." He slipped his own erection in between James's legs and rubbed himself off there, kissing him all the while. James, who had collected himself, decided to get a bit of revenge-turnabout was fair play, after all. He sneaked one of his hands behind his lover and carefully pushed one finger into him. "Ah!" squeaked John. James grinned devilishly at him and slid another inside him, going further until he found something hard within him and gently tapped it. John moaned and buried his face in the pirate's shoulder, rubbing himself faster. James stroked his insides, and John finally came, whimpering and shuddering on top of him. James pulled his fingers out and buried them in his golden lover's hair, taking him in a deep kiss, absorbing his soft cries as he finished.

When he settled at last, John pulled back and pouted at him. "That wasn't very fair," he said.

"Like I said, my dear," said James, pulling him down and wrapping his arms around him, pulling the covers over both of them, "I'm the Captain of this ship. I'm in charge around here."

John amusedly snorted. "Whatever helps you to fall asleep at night, darling." Then he smiled sweetly. "I do love you, you know," he added in a tender tone.

"And I love you," said James, kissing the crease between his penumbral eyebrows, then his lips.

John yawned, resting his head on his lover once more. "And they lived happily ever after..." he sighed as he nodded off.

"The end," rumbled the pirate, joining his lover in sleep.


	7. Art Link!

Hey guys, remember this lil ol' story? Well my gorgeous and talented friend Carla (lighttimegoddess on Tumblr and MistressAinley on DeviantArt) made a fan art for me inspired by this story! So if you wanna see some sexy pirates, click [this link](http://lighttimegoddess.tumblr.com/post/156553376600/soooooo-im-back-only-to-post-this-this-is-a).

Xoxo -Catie


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